


A High Price to Pay

by NowhereAtAll



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowhereAtAll/pseuds/NowhereAtAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor thinks about the choices that have brought her to this point, and all that she has given up to become the Inquisitor. It seems a high price to pay, until she is comforted by her commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A High Price to Pay

Ellana imagined she strode across a grass sea, the shimmering golden grass brushing her hips. It was the ripe, closing days of summer, and halla fawns frolicked in the grass along with the clan's children, under the watchful eyes of Taelen, the halla keeper, and Javon, the hahren, who taught the clan’s children. 

Behind the children and the hallas came the hunters, sharp-eyed and alert. Pheasants, startled by the children’s shouts and laughter, were flushed from their hiding places, and the hunters lept forward, unslung their bows and brought them down. They squatted where their prey fell and dressed them under sun and sky. The clan would eat well when they stopped for the night.

The aravels came next, the high grass slapping against their wooden hulls and the wind plucking at their red sails. Then the healers, occasionally stooping to cut plants and tuck them  in the woven bags swinging from their belts. The clan’s leaders -- Rissa, their warleader; Velanna, the hearthmistress; and Alhorn, the crafter -- followed behind them.

Ellana wore the subtle green-and-brown robes and leathers of a keeper’s first. The staff across her back was made of ash, carved by her own hand, not everite forged by Dagna. Keeper Deshanna walked beside her, holding the hands of Taerith and Iona, two of the clan’s magically gifted children. 

Ellana held Samnarel’s hand. Sam was barely more than a toddler, only recently having been allowed to walk instead of riding in an aravel. His face was still round and soft with baby fat, but his eyes were wise and curious. Sam was her favorite and might one day be her first, if he showed skill and aptitude.

He tugged at her hand, and stooped to pluck a dandelion when she stopped. The flower no longer had a riotous yellow mane, but had matured into a fluffy nimbus. Puckering his lips, Sam blew with all his might and laughed as the gentle breeze set the seeds to dancing before whisking them away.

Deshanna told the story of Fen’Harel imprisoning the Creators and the Forgotten Ones. 

“And that is why, when we call on the gods, they cannot answer,” she said. “Only the Dread Wolf, alone of our pantheon, walks the world. Be wary of He Who Hunts Alone, for he will never give you a straightforward answer or counsel kindness. What appears to be a hand holding a gift may be, in truth, a clenched fist.” Her voice rose and fell in the familiar rhythm that had been the music of Ellana’s childhood.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she heard that beloved voice again, even only in memory. She opened her eyes and dashed the tears from her cheeks. If anyone saw the Inquisitor crying atop the mage’s tower, it would be all over the hold within the hour. 

Below her were only steep valleys packed with snow and cruel mountain peaks. The rolling woodlands and wide plains she longed for were far away. She missed her clan desperately.

And she could never return to them. 

Ellana could never again walk in the aravels’ wake, listening to the old stories and teaching them in her turn. She could never become her clan’s keeper. She had gone too far, undertaken too much responsibility, been heralded as the representative of a prophet foreign to the Dalish. Most damningly, she had fallen in love with a shemlen. 

The Dalish waited patiently for human society to crumble, yet, when it was on the brink of destruction, she was among those pulling it back. She had no other choice; Corypheus threatened all of Thedas. If she didn’t oppose him, aravels would burn from the Free Marches to Orlais. This darkspawn magister wanted to bring back Old Tevinter. The elves were slaves in Old Tevinter, their blood and lives sacrificed as casually as Skyhold’s cook killed a brace of hens for dinner -- and with as little thought. He would rebuild the Imperium on the bones of Elvhenan and the Dales, but he would not be kind to the Dalish.

Ellana sighed, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. 

The Chantry took so much from her people in the name of faith, and now, they wanted her to bend the knee to their Maker. Faith in the Creators was one of the few things the Dalish had left. She had been her clan’s first; she would not turn her back on the old ways.

She had not asked to be called the Herald of Andraste, had scoffed at every turn and insisted on being called Inquisitor. It didn’t matter. Her name was synonymous with a faith she didn’t believe in, and she lived in a castle full of heretic shemlen clerics intent on converting her. 

Her people likely didn’t know she remained true to their faith. Outside of Briala’s people, the Dalish didn’t have organized spy networks as the other races did. If they had, she wouldn’t have been at the Conclave. She could only imagine what they thought of her -- likely none of it good. She remembered Briala’s bitter barbs. 

None of this was what she wanted or had dreamed of for herself. She never imagined a life in which she didn’t walk in the open air, sunlight on her face, or sleep in an aravel’s shadow, the night sounds of the wilderness her lullaby. She dreamed of teaching the clan’s children, unearthing new lore and artifacts and reclaiming the past. She dreamed of bonding with a sure-footed hunter, a provider and protector, or with a gentle healer, a lover of his own lore. 

Ellana never dreamed of shemlen, of templars who had been her childhood bogeymen. Every magically gifted Dalish child lived in fear of templars and their accusations of apostate -- as if you could be an apostate to a religion in which you never believed. She never thought of templars as people, instead of monsters, had never believed them capable of kindness, suffering, love or passion. 

Warmth rushed to her cheeks as she thought of  _ her _ templar’s passion, and she pressed her cold hands against her hot face. 

Ellana had dreamed of Dalish children, dancing and playing in the grass sea. Now, her life had no room for children. If she had children with Cullen, they would be indistinguishable from human … and, if they were magically gifted, he might want to send them to a Circle. 

She rested her cheek on her knees. She no longer belonged to herself or her clan. She belonged to the Inquisition. Yet, she was the one paying the price -- and what a high price it was for something she had never wanted.

And there were those who begrudged her what comforts she might find. 

“Some are complaining you have time to bed your allies, but I don’t judge,” Cabot said, polishing the bar at the Herald’s Rest when she stopped in to ask about the current mood and gossip. 

Ellana said nothing, but excused herself and retreated to the top of the mage’s tower, her silence and thunderous expression dissuading anyone from joining her. 

No matter how they searched for a secluded corner, someone always discovered them. It was only a matter of time before people started talking about it, but she didn’t expect to feel so defensive. 

When it came to Cullen, she had made a bad choice for her clan -- should she ever return and take up those duties -- and a bad choice for the Inquisition. Choosing Cullen meant losing her clan, because they would never accept him, and she found herself agonizing over leadership decisions that might put Cullen in harm’s way. He wasn’t a man to lead from the back, but she was terrified of losing him. 

There were myriad reasons they shouldn’t be together. Despite that, her emotions overrode logic. She was happy and at peace when she was with him. It didn’t matter if it had been five minutes or five days, her heart fluttered and she couldn’t stop smiling when he entered a room. Ellana tried to imagine not having Cullen to make her forget they were at war, even for a short time. She couldn’t; the idea made her chest ache and tears sting her eyes. She closed them, and prayed to the Creators for more self-control and resolve.

She couldn’t give him up, no matter the criticism. 

The decision to allow herself not only to love him, but to be loved by him was selfish, but it was the only one since the Conclave she had made entirely for herself. While she might regret the inevitable exile from her clan, she couldn’t regret loving him. 

A warm weight was wrapped around her shoulders. She smelled mint -- whatever hair tonic Cullen used had mint in it -- and feathers tickled her nose. Ellana opened her eyes; red wool cascaded over her shoulders and pooled around her haunches. 

“Cullen.”

“What did you do to scare the mages? I should adopt it for our field tactics.” 

She sighed. “I didn’t do anything. I just didn’t want to be bothered.”

“Did you want to freeze?”

“No.”

He sat beside her, one knee bent, his elbow resting on it. “You haven’t scolded me about my poor attempt at humor.”

“It was only mediocre.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “There are reports that need your attention, Leliana requested a war table meeting, Josephine has some contracts she wants you to review and you wanted to oversee this afternoon’s training exercises. Instead, you’re up here. It’s not like you to ignore what needs to be done.” 

“I needed some time to myself. The crowds ... “

He nodded. “I understand. It must be different than what you’re accustomed to.”

“Yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “There’s so much noise and activity, even at night.”

“I suppose it must have been very different, with the Dalish.”

“I know I’m not remembering it right,” she confessed. “There were many times we were cold, hungry or both. Or the shem -- the humans drove us away. But, when I remember it, we are always full, the sun is warm, and we are at peace, travelling across the grass sea.” 

“Is that in the Free Marches? I’m not familiar with it.”

She blushed. “It’s just -- never mind, it’s nonsense.”

“It’s clearly important to you. I want to hear it, if you want to tell it.” 

Ellana hesitated, but he was sincere, so she took a deep breath and continued. “There is a place that is all high grass, as far as you can see. It looks like it stretches to the horizon.”

He motioned for her to continue.

“It’s high enough to cover the aravels’ wheels and the hallas’ harnesses, so they look as if they are truly sailing.” She rested her forehead against her knees, hiding her face. “Like I said, it’s just silly nonsense.” 

“No, it’s a good thing.” He paused. “I think about Honnleath, sometimes. It’s good to remember what we’re working to save, even if it’s not for ourselves.”

He scooted closer -- more complicated than it needed to be, considering his armor -- and she leaned against him. 

“You’ve been thinking about the future,” she said. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ve been thinking about the past.” Ellana pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears, then running her fingers through it so it would fall over her ears and cover them. “I can never go back to my clan, Cullen.” Saying it aloud made it feel final. 

To his credit, he didn’t deny it. “I can’t help but think this is ordained. I know you don’t think so, but, however we ended up here, we have a chance to do good for so many people.” 

It was a very Cullen thing to say -- for an ex-templar, he was remarkably optimistic, especially in the middle of a war. After all he had endured and struggling with his addiction and withdrawal, he remained hopeful. She could at least try. Perhaps her interruption of Corypheus’ ritual had stopped -- or at least delayed -- an army of demons destroying all of southern Thedas, including her clan. 

As she mulled this over, Cullen put an arm around her. 

“I was prepared to give up anything for my clan,” she said. “I would have paid any price to keep them safe, but I never expected to have to give them up. I don’t know if I can let them go. I don’t know if I can let everything I’ve ever known -- my entire past -- go. I don’t want to lose who I am. I don’t want this to change me so much I won’t recognize myself.” 

“Change doesn’t have to be for the worse. You can’t choose what happens to you, but you can choose how you react to it. It took me a long time to understand that.”

Ellana shook her head. “I’ve passed the point of no return. There’s no point in kicking and screaming over it now.” 

“I’d be more worried if you didn’t occasionally doubt yourself. It keeps you hu -- “ His ears turned pink. 

She laughed. “I wish your soldiers could see you now. Blushing becomes you, Commander.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You want them to see me fumbling for words? I doubt it would inspire confidence in my abilities.” 

She grinned and wrinkled her nose. “It would make you people, as Sera would say.”

“Speaking of Sera, I know she’s been in my office. She touched something. I just don’t know what. It’s driving me mad.”

“Oh, absolutely. I can’t tell you what it was, though.”

He gaped. “You knew?”

“I helped.” 

“And you’re not going to tell me?”

“You’ll figure it out. Or it will drive you crazy. Either way, the soldiers find it entertaining, and that makes you people.” People was a good word. Everyone could be people. “We have enough figureheads.”

He pulled her closer. “You inspire them.” 

“When they’re not talking about you bedding me.” She pulled a face. 

He choked. “Maybe it makes you people.”

“Or your pet elf.” 

Cullen tightened his hold on her. “It bothers you.” 

“I know what some people think of elves, that we’re only half a step above animals. There are some who would think you perverse because of our relationship.” 

“They’re proud of you. They’re proud of the Inquisition.”

“Not all of them.” 

“Some of them likely think I’m only commander because we’re lovers. You won’t be liked by everyone under your command. You’ll become accustomed.” 

“Will I?” 

“Yes, but it takes time. No one cares for being disliked.” He hesitated. “If it helps, I believe in what we’re building here. No one else can do this, and no one but you can close the rifts and oppose Corypheus.” He smiled ruefully. “We likely appear a motley group, but that we’ve been able to build a consortium of such different people shows how important this is. We need you.” He swallowed. “ _ I _ need you. Even if all your followers abandoned you, I would still stand beside you.”

She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears back. “That’s probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

He brushed tears from her cheeks. “I do not mean to grieve you, my lady.” 

“You don’t.” She smiled. “You never do. I don’t think I can say that about anyone else.”

“Then I will endeavour that it remains so.” He stood and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. 

She looked out over the valley, the snow sparkling like diamonds and great birds of prey wheeling around the mountain peaks. 

In the courtyard below, Krem was beating Bull with a staff while the Qunari yelled encouragement. Sera was leaning out of the window of her tower, cheering for the Tevinter. Nearby, Cassandra and Dorian bent their heads together, and passed something between them -- likely the preview chapter of “Swords and Shields.” 

Varric and Cole exited the great hall, the dwarf gesturing broadly as Cole nodded. Vivienne spoke to Josephine on the balcony above. Josephine was taking notes. A flight of ravens soared out of the rookery, and a moment later, Leliana came out onto the balcony to watch their flight. 

Cullen wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple. She relaxed into his embrace.

Maybe she could let the past go, like a handful of dandelion seeds in the wind. Maybe she could build something new. Maybe she could dream of a future that included Cullen  _ and _ her clan. 

“I believe we have work to do.” 

“That we do, Inquisitor.” 


End file.
